


Packed Dirt and Chicken Wire

by facade



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: "No Romo" Relationship Dynamics, Ace Community, Ace Spectrum, Ace Umbrella, Actually!Ace Character(s), Actually!Aro Character(s), Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Aromantics, Asexuality, Brotherly Love, Cristiano (Asexual/Aromantic/Panaesthetic/Homoplatonic), Divisions of Eros, Dry Humor, Fernando (Bisexual/Biromantic/Panaesthetic/Panplatonic), Friendship, I Can't Even Begin to Explain This, Iker (Bisexual/Aromantic/Panaesthetic/Homoplatonic), M/M, Multi, Phileo Love, Platonic Love (Divine Eros), Platonic Relationships, Plausible Graysexuality, Sarcasm, Sergio (Asexual/Grayromantic/Panaesthetic/Panplatonic), Sex Positive Asexuality, Sex Repulsed Asexuality, Stock Market Banter, Stolen Animals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:10:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3261152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facade/pseuds/facade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When you loved someone, you put their needs before your own. No matter how inconceivable those needs were; no matter how fucked up; no matter how much it made you feel like you were ripping yourself into pieces.” - Jodi Picoult, The Pact</p><p>((Hesco Barriers. Everyone keeps asking me what the title means. Hesco Barriers.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Is That My Dog?

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous [asked](http://portugolazo.tumblr.com/post/109651867638/hey-there-i-was-wondering-im-asexual-and-i): Hey there. I was wondering. I'm asexual (and I know you are too) so I was wondering if you could write something that someone like me can relate to? I like your Cramos ship so maybe with them? I just think it'd be nice :)  
> \-----  
> I honestly don't even know what this is. I know a majority of the things on here are focused on eros (romantic love) but I felt the need to write something centered around phileo (brotherly love) so I started writing this... I'm just having fun with this (for once) so whatever happens, happens and feel free to leave suggestions wherever and whenever.

He fell to the floor, face burning, body gasping for air as the pulsing music around him fell to mute within his mind, as the bright flashing lights seemed to burn a little brighter. The taste of his own blood fell against his tongue and he instinctively lifted his arm, wiped his forearm across his lips and staggered to his feet. He fell briefly against a familiar body and breathed in a familiar scent of sandalwood before a hand fell against his shoulder and spun him around again, another stinging feeling being relayed from nerve to nerve. He stumbled backwards and felt arms wrapping around him and he thoughtlessly smiled as the warmth of the other body collided with his own: he was always behind him. He tried, tried and failed to stand as he shook his head dismissively as a drunken “I’m sorry, Sergio” fell against the shell of his ear; he didn’t want the other man to be sorry for this and besides, he knew that he wasn't sorry at all as he had laughed out his 'apology'. “It’s fine, Cris. At least I got a good hit on him,” Sergio chuckled out as the room around him wavered on the fine line between a dark oblivion and flashing neon.

“I don’t, I don’t think you did,” Cristiano drawled out as he smiled down at the Spaniard, “his face looks fine. Did you punch him in the leg or something...?” He was leaning forward, tempted to check the aggressor’s leg for any bruising but Sergio seemed to be slipping back down onto the ground again. He took a moment to decide whether he should examine the other man for any markings or help Sergio before he decided that the floor looked rather filthy and Sergio was wearing his nice jeans after all. He sighed as he used all of his body’s weight to pull the Sevillan to his feet again and pulled the arm of the other over his shoulder to prevent him from falling again, stumbling backwards as he struggled against the weight of the other for a moment. “Either this floor moves,” he laughed out as the other grinned stupidly with him, "or you've put on some crazy weight." He eventually found a balance and managed to defy gravity for the time as they made their way through the crowded club, though neither of them could be exactly sure of where the exit was. They had found the bathroom, had found a threesome, and had even found a one year old wandering around (("what the fuck are you doing here" "where are your parents child" "dude, she looks wasted" "right, she's wobbling around all over the place" "who is that" "wait a minute... child do you know this person" "why the fuck are you bringing your child to a... where the fuck are we" "what do you mean that's a boy...?" "he's beautiful" "he is" "I want kids" "are you serious, man" "nah")) before they found the crowded street.

They somehow ended up in the back of a cab, falling against one another with each left and right turn because they were both too wasted to figure out the seatbelts (and because the driver was feeling like a dick) and, eventually, at an address that belonged to neither of them because they had given the driver Cristiano’s house number with Sergio’s street name. They had stood in front of it for a while, trying to decide if the other had ordered a remodel while they were at the club before a neighbor taking his dog out for a late run had asked them “what the hell [they were] doing” while threatening to call the cops. “Help me, I’m lost,” Cristiano had whined out like a small, helpless child while Sergio chuckled and fell against him. That’s why there were blue and red lights painting the neighborhood.

“Seriously, can you turn your lights off,” Cristiano groaned as the officer pointed a “why the hell is that thing so damn bright; are you trying to blind me” flashlight into his eyes. “They’re making me feel nauseated and I really don’t feel like throwing up. It tastes disgusting and I’m kind of okay with the taste in my mouth right now.” The cop had agreed as long as Cristiano had agreed to be more compliant. “I told you, Mr. Officer Sir, I don’t know why I’m here,” Cristiano sighed out in frustration, threading his fingers anxiously through his hair, “why are any of us here...? I’m here because she is not. No, fuck that. Fuck her, too. I’m here because I am a fucking man. An independent man who...”

“...is lost?” The officer finished for him, shaking his head at the pitiful man sitting on the curb in front of him. “You won’t be here for long, you’ll be in a bright, cold room down at the station unless you can tell me where you should be or what you’re doing here.”

“A taxi driver…” Sergio answered as he noticed the patience on the officer’s face starting to wear thin, choking down a burp and wincing at the taste of condensed alcohol. (I guess the top shelf tastes just as bad as the bottom coming up). He was about to turn to Cristiano to give the thought words when he caught sight of the officer staring at him expectantly. (Oh, he's still here...? Weird). “A taxi driver, we gave him the address and he dropped us off here.” He watched as the cop finally nodded and started going through their wallets, pulling out their licenses and checking their addresses with a nod of his head. 

“It looks like you guys gave him a bit of both of your addresses,” he observed as he tucked the id’s back into the wallets of their respective owners and mumbled out a few numbers of code to the dispatch. “I’ll tell you what… I’ll toss you guys in the back of my car and take you home myself, just to make sure you get there okay as it’s only a few houses down. We’ll forget this whole thing happened, alright. Just, next time, show the cab driver your licenses so we can avoid situations like this in future. What do you say?”

“You mean neither of us live here?” Cristiano whispered out in disbelief, glaring at the house behind him from over his shoulder as soon as he finished vocalizing his thought. “That’s so strange. I could have sworn that was my fucking dog. Did that bitch steal my dog?”

“I don’t think, I don’t think you have a Great Dane, Cristiano,” Sergio whispered back as he turned to find the massive dog watching them through the gate. “Your dog is kind of small. It’s like a little, like a little Chihuahua but a little bigger… I think that one might be too big.”

* * *

 

There was an evil ball of yellow trying to kill him through a set of sliding glass doors and he tried to throw a something at it but the barrier of glass prevented the something from going too far. (Just go away). Cristiano’s head was throbbing and there was a disgusting taste of (my fucking god, I vomited somewhere) lingering in his mouth and he couldn’t help but hate himself. He tried to encourage himself to go back to sleep but the sudden fear of possibly rolling into his own body’s waste prevented him from doing so, that and the realization that he had no clue of where he was or how he had gotten to this wherever.

He sat up sharply in the bed and groaned as his body protested against the sudden movement, choking down the urge to release the remnants of his debauchery from the night before as he glanced around the room. He felt himself calm as he quickly recognized the area but frowned as he felt the comforter rubbing against his raw, exposed flesh; he cautiously peeked underneath the covers and winced as a thought of (where the fuck are my clothes) crossed his mind before he glanced over the side of the bed, laughing as he found Sergio face down, drool-covered in an equal state of absolute undress. He was leaning over the side of the bed to wake the other man when a massive dog entered the room and gave him a look of "who the fuck are you" though Cristiano was fairly certain that he had known Sergio longer than that dog had so who the fuck was he. “Sergio," he whispered as he shook the sleeping man by the shoulder, eyes never leaving the "you're way too damn big to be a dog. You're a horse and horses should be kept outside" dog as he continued shaking the still snoring man. "Sergio, when the fuck did you get a Great Dane?”


	2. Leave the Gun. Take the Cannoli.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re supposed to come to him on the day of his daughter’s wedding. He can’t say no on the day of his daughter’s wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the wonderful feedback on this! 
> 
> **There's a lot of dialogue in this one and, as always, I'm still editing it**

The drive to Sergio’s house that evening was one of the longest of his life and he could feel his palms already starting to sweat against the steering wheel, his heart pounding wildly as the clock counted down the seconds, the minutes, the hours. One by one they fell into the past, one by one they carved a path forward and brought him closer to his future, a future he hoped would be theirs by the night’s end. His nerves were shot and his stomach was in knots, anxiety ridden thoughts telling him that now probably wasn't the best time for them and he found himself superstitiously looking for the signs. (Oh, a billboard for a jewelry store, must be a sign), though the billboard had always been there; it had merely been newly discovered as it now held a sense of personal significance within his life. He had taken a quick detour, had driven by the night club and had released a sigh of relief as he had found Cristiano’s car still taking up a spot within the otherwise vacant lot, an assurance that the Portuguese man and Sergio hadn’t driven themselves home the night before and had [hopefully] resorted to taking a cab in their drunken state.

> "Fernando, the earth is spinning round and round really fast. Like, if I jump then I think I'll end up in the middle of the Atlantic but that's okay. I really want to travel. Don't you want to travel, Nando? Okay, it's okay. I'll start walking now, you'll just catch up," Sergio drawled thoughtlessly into the phone, music pulsing loudly behind him as he dazedly watched Cristiano casually flirting with a guy at the bar. "Cris is talking to someone. Do you, do you know him, Nando?"
> 
> "I don't know, Sergio," he chuckled through his side of the line, yawning tiredly as he threaded his fingers through his already disheveled hair and checked the time. It was only eleven but he had to be at work by 0300 if he wanted to be off in time to... "I can't see him. Look just make sure that when you go to leave, make sure you don't drive."

“Okay,” he whispered to himself as the light in front of him quickly flashed from green to yellow to red, “so he obviously remembered not to drive home... Maybe it was, maybe it was just embedded within his subconscious and maybe he won't remember the rest of the conversation? No. No I want him to remember. I need him to remember. Come on, get your shit together, you can do this, Fernando. You've got this. He’s probably going to laugh at you for getting yourself so worked up about this. Of course he will but he’ll probably understand.” His thoughts were racing through his head at speeds that were too quick for his own comprehension and he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Cristiano, you and I, we… No, that’s garbage. It’s not about Cristiano and I, it’s about...” The light showed green and he abandoned his thoughts as he focused on the road, finding himself turning into La Finca much sooner than he had expected, still feeling completely under-prepared for what the evening had in store despite his months of planning. "Cristiano, I know things haven't always been great between us but..." he trailed as he caught sight of Iker's car in the drive of Sergio's home and drew in a large breath of air, daring himself to proceed through the gate. 

\---

Iker was half-heartedly apologizing for something when Fernando had finally worked up the gall to actually go inside of the house, was muttering his “I’m sorry for leaving early” to the other two men within the room as tears streaked down his cheeks and as laughter rolled heartily off of his lips. He was certain regrettable things had happened the night before; he had already seen the clothes of the other two men littered across the lawn and had even spotted his boyfriend’s boxer-briefs floating in the pool and he was fairly certain Iker’s laughter had something to do with the massive dog currently staring at him. He'd probably be laughing with him if it wasn't for the knots within his stomach. “What the hell is that thing,” he asked as he threw the plastic bag containing the recently purchased Tylenol and Motrin at the man on the sofa, chuckling without feeling the joy of a laugh as he heard them make contact with his boyfriend’s head.

“It’s either a horse or a dog. I have fifty on it being a horse,” Sergio whispered out as he gave the Great Dane a sideways look, eyes never straying from the dog once as he fumbled with the two bottles. He clumsily tossed one of them towards Cristiano, the Tylenol, and attempted to check the label on the side of the Motrin but his vision was still swirling from the night before and the words all seemed to be running together. “Why do they print all of the important information in such a small font? It's unreal,” he whined as he noticed Fernando making his way over to him. He handed the bottle over to the other man in mock defeat, sighing in relief as the other Spaniard popped off the cap and dumped a massive pill into the palm of his hand. "Thanks, Freckles," he yawned out as the other man playfully swatted at the back of his head.

“Do you think you’ll be feeling better by this evening? In the next two hours or so?” Fernando wondered aloud as he made his way into the kitchen and pulled a couple of bottles of water off of the counter, twisting off the lid of one of them as he made his way back into the living room, tossing the other towards Iker who simply slapped it to the floor. “That wasn’t for you, Iker. You don’t have to be a dick,” Fernando chuckled out, rolling his eyes as Cristiano simply rolled off of the sofa he had been laying on and collapsed to the floor on top of the now rolling bottle. His smile deepened as he noticed that Cris was wearing some of the clothes he had left a few nights ago and wondered if Cristiano was the owner of the shorts currently beneath his front tires. “I really don’t want to reschedule this, Sergio,” Fernando sighed out as he sat in front of the other man, “we’ve been planning this for months and I…”

“I still don’t see what the big deal is,” Iker interrupted as he pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and started messing around with a few of his apps, mindlessly opening and closing a few of them, smiling as a message from Cristiano came in (SMS: “he’s such a pussy” // SMS: “that’s not an insult, Cris” // SMS: “he’s such a penis”). He kicked the man on the floor and laughed as Cristiano started laughing and deleted the messages just in case… “I just don’t think relationships are supposed to be about all of that. You shouldn’t have to constantly woo a person to convince them to stay with you and if you have to, you probably aren’t meant to be with that person in the first place.”

“I don’t feel obligated to do anything,” Fernando scoffed out as he handed the bottle of water over to his boyfriend and ran a hand anxiously through his own hair. He could feel his own hands trembling and he hoped that the involuntary movements had gone unnoticed by everyone else in the room. He glanced around and was relieved to find Sergio and Cris still wallowing in their self-inflicted misery and Iker with his nose buried in his phone. “I made these plans because I wanted to do something special with Sergio and I…” he stopped as he saw the other two men laughing at him and simply shook his head in defeat, felt a few of the knots within his stomach melt to nothing as he found Sergio smiling warmly at him. (I can do this).

“Iker and I went to Barcelona last week.” “Yeah, I had the day off so we put a Real Madrid flag outside of the Camp Nou.” “Oh man, that guy was so fucking pissed.” “So pissed. I honestly thought he was going to kill us.” “No, yeah. He was definitely going to kill us. I’m so glad you talked me into doing cardio all of last month. It's like I had been training for that moment all of that month.” “Now that, that was special.” “Definitely special.” “I mean, I’m never going to forget that.” “Yeah. That look of pure horror on your face will forever be burned into my memory.” “It was pretty great.”

“That’s not… No. Just no! That’s not the same,” Fernando choked out, completely flustered with the direction the other two men had taken the conversation in. “That’s borderline terrorism, that isn’t… Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you two?” He redirected his attention back on Sergio and frowned as he found the Sevillan laughing with the other two men. “Don’t encourage them, Sergio,” he begged ((“Sergio, you should have seen it though. Iker was so terrified he tried to hide in a dumpster and I mean, of fucking course they'd check the garbage for the trash they'd just run off. That shit’s, it's a no brainer”)), sighing in defeat as a smile took hold of his own features. It was difficult for him to withhold a smile when Sergio was smiling directly in front of him. His eyes found the dog again and he shook his head in disbelief. “So, is anyone going to tell me what the hell happened last night? I mean, I spend one night at home and…?” He trailed, frowning as Sergio turned to place the bottle of water on the coffee table; he felt his blood boiling beneath the surface of his flesh as he found the bruised cheekbone and busted lip of the other man. “What the fuck happened to your face?”

Sergio went to shrug because he couldn’t remember what had happened to his face for the life of him and he wasn’t too bothered about it, but he stopped himself as he caught sight of Cristiano’s mischievous smirk and he found himself mimicking the action instead. “So we were at the club, throwing it back and turning up, moving like Jagger...” “No, we put that fucker to shame, Sergio. Own it.” “Moving better than Jagger when all of a sudden, it’s like there were fucking ninjas at that club.” “There was like, a ninja army there.” “I mean, they were dressed like normal party people but…” “But they moved like fucking moles.” “What the fuck, Cris. Moles?” “You’ve never played whack-a-mole?” “I love that fucking game.” “I hate that fucking game.” “You only hate it because you’re too slow for it, Cris. You’re too slow for a lot of things.” “Be quiet, Iker. This doesn’t concern you... They were like moles but they struck like fucking cobras. I swear their eyes were black and soulless and their feet were like...” “I don’t know why they came at me like they did...” “but they did. Honestly, Fernando, I think they were all threatened by how good he looked in that stupid fucking flamingo shirt. So technically, it’s your fault that they came down on him like a pack of fucking cheetahs if cheetahs travelled in packs.” “My fucking god, Cris. Of all the metaphors you could have used…” “What? Cheetahs are natural enemies of flamingos. No shit, I saw it on the Discovery channel the other day.”

“Guys.”

“I was watching the Discovery channel yesterday, too. I must have missed that one.” “It came on just after the episode about sea snakes.” “The one about banded sea kraits?” “Yeah, that one.” “I swear, I’m never going to Indonesia, man.” “Why not? ...because of banded sea kraits? They’re friendly as hell.” “They’re more poisonous than cobras, man.” “They’re completely cool though. They’re very kind snakes and they don’t even like to bite. I mean, they want to be friends with everyone, they only bite when they have to or when they feel threatened. Kind of like that Suarez guy I work with.” “There’s no such thing as a kind snake, Cris.” “You obviously weren’t paying attention then because…”

“Guys,” Fernando shouted as he looked to Iker for help, finding the other man as useless as he always seemed to be in these situations and buried his face into his hands, letting the defeat wash over him as Cristiano and Sergio rambled on and on about Sea Kraits and other lifeforms. He didn’t even notice when they fell silent and, by the time he looked up, Sergio had already gone off to take a shower leaving him in the company of Iker and Cristiano. “I swear,” Fernando yawned out, eyes on Cristiano, “you two are worse than my mother with her Bridge friends.”

“You know, I still don’t know what Bridge is.” “It’s a rich people thing, Cris. You have to have class to understand it.” “Is it a card game or is it…?” “Yeah, you play it with four people and…”

“Stop. For the love of all things you find holy, please don’t,” Fernando sighed out, a hint of desperation in his voice as Iker and Cristiano started to ramble on about Bridge. He was surprised when the other two stopped talking and even more so when he found the attentions of the two other men on him. It was strange. They never listened to him.

“Fernando,” Cristiano sighed out as he cursed his throbbing temples, “why are you being such a little bitch today? I mean, I’m used to you whining and pissing and moaning all of the time but you’ve surpassed yourself within a matter of minutes.” “I think it’s quite impressive.” “It is. I don’t even think my nephew is this bad.”

“I need your help with something.” Fernando rushed out sensing the two trailing in their conversation yet again, eyes darting from Iker to Cris to Iker again. “It’s pretty serious, about Sergio and myself.”

“Oh, no,” Iker chuckled out, throwing up his hands in surrender. “I’ve been trying to get rid of him for years but it’s impossible.” “No, I…” “Seriously, he’s like mold.” “I just…” “He grows on you whether you want him to or not but, after a while, it’s more of a... “ “I want to ask him to marry me.”

The room fell silent for the first time since Fernando had been there and it was the only time he would have preferred the noise of Cristiano's voice rambling on about whatever happened to be running through his mind within the minute. “I mean, I know you and Sergio are close, Cris, and I know we’ve never been friends or anything but I kind of want your blessing. You and Sergio are like,” he crossed his fingers to show what he meant as he found himself incapable of describing how he perceived the friendship, and started chewing on his bottom lip as he found Cristiano's furrowed brows. "I know that if I'm marrying him then I'm going to be saddled with you in some way and I don't want him to feel as if he has to choose between us but I... I love him and I just want to make him happy and I know, I know that he will only be happy if you and I are on the same page with this."

The room was consumed with silence for a few more moments until... “Holy shit. I feel like the Godfather.” “You are the Godfather.” “This is so fucking cool. I feel so powerful. What am I supposed to do though?” “Fernando, you did it wrong. You’re supposed to come to him on the day of his daughter’s wedding. He can’t say no on the day of his daughter’s wedding.” ”Forget about it.” “That’s so cliche, Cris.” “You know what’s a cliche? You. You are a fucking cliche, Iker. Your entire existence: mediocre."

The knots in his stomach loosened and his mind fell quiet for the first time in the past twenty-four hours. He was still worried about Sergio's response but having Cristiano supporting him, supporting them in his own, weird way...? That was all of the approval Fernando felt he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of conversation to show common interests as a majority of asexual/aromantic relationships (all of Cristiano's relationships to include friendships in this) are built on common interests and platonic attractions


	3. Forget Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know, most deaf people who get coclear implants have them removed. No shit, the sound is too much for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit heavier than I intended for it to be.

He could hear the water still falling in the room attached to the one he was entering, could hear splashes as a body shifted beneath said falling water and sighed as he collapsed onto the bed of the room he was in, feet up on the headboard as he fished a pillow out from beneath him and tucked it under his head. Iker and Fernando had started on a game of “Fuck, Marry, Kill” and he had quickly dismissed himself from it as he’d fuck and marry no one and he’d probably kill everyone. He’d be a bore of a participant. He had spared them. They’re welcome.

“Fuck, Cris! You scared the shit out of me," Sergio gasped out as he clinched the area of his chest over his still beating heart, wide eyed and gasping for air. "What are you doing in here?” He emerged from within a cloud of steam, towel wrapped around his waist as he used another, smaller towel to dry his hair and the other was choking back a bout of laughter. ((Chessy porno music and a corny story line were the only things missing)). He paused for a moment and turned towards the bed, a scowl marring his features. "Tell me you didn't masturbate on my new sheets and jizz underneath my pillow."

“What the fuck? No. That's just... It's only funny the first time. What kind of unoriginal cheesecake do you take me for? Honestly, I might be offended." So offended he was that he yawned, tuning out whatever snide rebuttal the Sevillan threw in response and started playing with the band of his borrowed shorts. "Fernando and Iker are discussing whether they want to stick their penis into a person or a knife and I found it all to be quite yawn worthy. Not really my cup of anything.”

“No one is worthy of thy penis?” “That’s exactly how I define my sexuality. You know, as time passes, I think I’m becoming increasingly autosexual.” “I’m sure you still could have played though.” “Yeah but it’d be like saying that I’d fuck Michelangelo’s David.” “You wouldn’t?” “Oh my god, Sergio. That’s not the point”.

The Spaniard chuckled as he allowed his towel to fall off of his waist and wandered into his closet, flipping on the light with a sigh as he carded through the various shirts and button-ups dangling from the hangers within it. “Do you think Fernando would be pissed if I just threw on a teeshirt and pair of jeans?”

Cristiano smiled as he glanced into the closet and found Sergio wearing nothing more than a mischievous smirk. “I think,” he started as he pulled open one of the drawers that tucked beneath Sergio’s bed, rummaging around until he found what had to be the most flamboyant pair of underwear in existence, “he’s an audacious idiot if he expects anything more from you.” “I'll have you know that I wear more than just t-shirts and jeans.” “...but do you wear it well? As a friend, I feel obliged to inform you that I have concerns.” "Says the man whose shorts are only a few inches long." "They're shorts, not fucking capris, amigo. Besides, who wore flamingos to the fucking club last night? Hint, hint: it wasn't me, cabrón."

Sergio’s response was hindered as the small piece of fabric Cristiano had been holding collided with his face and he quickly slipped into them without a second thought. “I’m just… I want to get this right, you know? For Fernando. I've never felt this, I don't know, connected to anyone before.”

"I’m sure he’d be happy with just that," Cris chuckled out while pointing to Sergio who was still standing in the closet wearing the jockstrap he had teasingly thrown him. He didn't think he'd actually put it on. "You know how allosexuals are. They’re extremely easy to appease. Tight clothes drenched in sweat with a bit of lip biting and they're done. It's not exactly quantum physics.”

Sergio rolled his eyes as he looked behind himself and caught sight of his own uncovered ass. How he still fell for that one every time was beyond him.“It’s more than just that between us though, Cristiano," he muttered as he slipped back out of the small fabric and motioned for an exchange. ("Not skanky enough for your precious, Fer?" "Too skanky. It's supposed to be a romantic type of evening.") He pulled his boxer briefs up to his hips and carded his fingers through his hair, suddenly overwhelmed and confused. "I mean, don’t you think that we’re more than that?”

“Oh, that’s right. It’s flowers destined to die, candles that will eventually melt to nothing, and silly little metaphors that are more comedic than they are romantic, not to mention completely illogical for the most part.” Another yawn, eyes trading the majesty of a circulating fan for Sergio's (oh shit)... "I'm sorry, Sergio. That was, that was pretty cynical of me and I shouldn't have..."

"Nah, stop it. I know you didn't mean anything by it." Sergio sighed defeatedly and dragged himself over to the bed, collapsing on top of the other body occupying it meeting only a "hmph" in resistance. He shifted his weight around until he was comfortably straddling his friend, head resting against the other's chest as his worries consumed his mind and spirit and, eventually, his tongue. “Do you honestly think that’s all it is?” It was a quiet question, something more than a whisper but less than... He wasn’t even sure if he was asking Cristiano for his thoughts or searching for his own.

The Portuguese man blindly felt around the body of the other person until he felt the scruff of his face and slapped at it, playfully yet firmly. “No. No, it probably isn’t,” he breathed out, suddenly aware of who it was that he was speaking with. That this was Sergio and that Iker was Iker. “It just isn’t for me, I guess. I don’t need it or desire it or anything but if you do, if you do that doesn’t make you less than anyone.” He was watching the blades of the ceiling fan again, around and around they spun. Around and around.

“So it doesn’t make me weak or anything? You won’t run around calling me a hopeless romantic if I were to tell you that, I don't know... It's like I woke up one day and decided that I wanted, needed to see the way the light of a candle bounces off of Fernando’s flesh, the light of the moonlight with a pianist playing something sweet in the background.”

“No. No, I’d still call you a hopeless romantic, pathetic even, but not in a way that would…" He frustrated himself sometimes. "You’re not inferior to me. If a fucking candle and a pianist makes you happy and if it makes you feel connected or some shit, that's awesome.”

Sergio grinned against the chest of the other and sat up as he felt the weight shift off of his shoulders. “You’re not inferior to anyone either, Cris.” It had been awhile since they had talked about it, since they had talked about what it was that had driven them apart. Since they had talked about Fernando, or Cris, or Iker, or Sergio as they were built. "Not everyone is wired the same but that doesn't make a person broken or inferior, just different."

A groan. “You had sex with Fernando after your third date, your fourth, fifth..." Cristiano reminded Sergio as he slid out from beneath him, smiling to keep the light undertone of the conversation just that. "I threw up on Iker despite us having waited a year and had to go to psych. That's not... I fucking threw up on him, Sergio. Vomit. It was every-fucking-where. And I was, I was shaking."

"No one is exactly the same, Cris. You know that better than anyone. Fuck, you taught me that shit." He leaned forward and kissed the other on the forehead before replacing his lips with his own forehead. "I wouldn't change you, if that counts for anything."

"Speaking of changing, is that what you’re wearing?” Cristiano giggled as Sergio frantically rolled off of the bed and darted towards the closet again. He flipped himself over onto his stomach and watched the other desperately pulling various clothing items off of hangers only to toss them to the floor, completely dissatisfied with what he had.

He found it all to be rather cute that Sergio was so worked up over food and candles, over violins and whispered little nothings, over romance. He liked watching other people swoon over clichéd allegory and expensive wine, chocolate and some stupid poem out of context... He liked watching shit blow up, too, but, in the same sense, it wasn't a situation he wanted for himself, something he wanted, needed to share with Iker or anyone else for that matter. A smirk. Part of him wanted to “accidentally” inform the Sevillan that Fernando would be finding the knee and showing a rock that very evening just to see the panic in Sergio’s features intensify… but he was fairly confident that neither Fernando nor Sergio would ever forgive him for that.

"Oh, there you are! I was wondering where you had run off to." "What the fuck? You did not just try to bail out of the question by deserting me in the living room. Why are you being such a...?" "I had to check up on my boyfriend. I'm loving like that." "Bullshit, Iker. Your only kind of sweet comes in a plastic bag and is semi melted half of the time. You're not fooling anyone. Now decide, no more excuses. Cristiano. Sergio. Fernando." "You can't put two asexuals in there, especially not when one is aromantic. It just..." "Why not? Sergio and I have sex all of the time and I'm sure you and Cris do, as well. Not that I want to hear about it."

He didn't need to look up to know that Iker was looking at him, didn't need to look up to know that Sergio was probably silently scolding Fernando and that Fernando was probably forming some new grudge against him. He didn't want to look up, didn't want to be the focal of some argument, some new line of questioning, some strange stare from a familiar face.

"We should, uh, we should probably get going," Iker mumbled out as he reached over to squeeze Cristiano's thigh. He was fairly confident that Cris was in his head again and he needed to make sure he wouldn't spend another two months there. "I, uh, I called the number off of the collar of that dog. The owner sounded pretty happy about her dog being found," he couldn't help but chuckle at the word. "I, uh, told her that we could drop him off on our way out, if that's fine with you?" He leaned down in a failed attempt to catch the eyes of the other so he turned the chin of the younger man and forced the contact. "Sergio owes you fifty bucks. It's definitely a dog. I had the owner confirm." The curve of his lips died a little as the other flatly told him that it was "just a joke" and that he'd be "waiting for [him] in the car", shoulders dropping as his boyfriend's figure disappeared around the doorframe. Defeated, he gave Sergio a look and the other nodded with a sense of understanding just before following Cristiano out to the car.

Forget clothes. 

* * *

"Hey, aren't you forgetting something? Someone?" Sergio called out as he dragged a massive dog behind him and towards Iker's truck though the dog was doing most of the dragging. The Spaniard reached out and opened the door to the cab, waiting for the dog to jump inside before he closed the door and made his way over to the driver's side. "So where are we headed?" A pause as the silence between the two stretched. "I didn't want to bring it up before but Iker," Sergio continued, picking at the steering wheel and smoothing it over, picking and smoothing "Iker told me that you tried to see a therapist."

"I'd rather not talk about it, Sergio." "I just think it's more than a little fucked up for you to stand on your little soap box and preach about everyone else's sexual orientation being an unchangable, constant part of who they are but the second it comes to yours..." "Shut the fuck up, Sergio. You don't know what it's like to be with someone, to love someone and have them love you back despite your incapabilities to fulfill their needs. You don't know what it's like for your one hundred percent to be someone else's seventy-five because you can be one twenty-five with people and I can't." "Cris... Don't be, don't be like that." "It was supposed to be me and you against them and now it just feels like..." 

"Like nothing, Cris. You still have me. There's still us and there's still them. We're just, we're just different shades of the same colour." He shoved up the folded down center seat and pulled the other in for a hug, nuzzling his head into the other's neck. "You know, most deaf people who get coclear implants have them removed. No shit, the sound is too much for them. Saw it on the Discovery Channel." "Where the fuck are your clothes?" "In my pool, it would seem. I saw yours beneath Fer's tire." "...and there's a strange dog in my backseat. How fucked up were we last night?" "Probably as fucked up as we usually are." 


	4. The King of Hearts is an Ace of Spades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He knew that Gabi and Cris were close, knew that the two had dated in the past but that Gabi couldn’t cope with Cristiano’s romantic and sexual orientation as the former needed to be desired though he claimed that he’d always love Cris. And Iker knew Cristiano, knew that he would never fault anyone for having needs and the two had remained close friends throughout the years and, much like Sergio, Iker had embraced Gabi as an extension of Cristiano."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neymar's relationship with Gabi is one of my favourites. #TeamGabi lmfao

He could already see the sun starting to fall from the sky from where he sat behind his desk; already, its fading rays had painted his office in a pastel orange hue, had brushed against the rises of his cheekbones and nose with the last of its warmth, and he released a sigh of defeat as he traded the view of the sun falling over the city for the various stacks of papers adorning his desk. He yawned lazily and looked longingly at the door but the papers were still stacked a little too high and were still a little too blank, and he still had another six people to call before he could even think about leaving. Perhaps seven…? Yeah, seven. "Hey, you. I'm caught up at the office and I was hoping you could pick up Abelhinha from the sitter's. I can pick him up after I'm done, if it's not too late, or in the morning there’s just so much shit I still have to do and I have no idea of when I’m looking to get out of here." He waited patiently, smiling as he heard Iker's game end and the commentators reliving Iker's great victory over what was probably some punk kid at the other end of the line. "Just for today Iker."

"No, yeah, I've already picked him up, Cris," Iker yawned as he stretched himself across the couch and pulled the little Yorky into his lap, smiling as he scratched the little dog’s head. "He was a good boy today," he gushed as the smaller creature's excitement grew under Iker's attentions and affections. "Who's a good boy? You's a good boy!"

"Wait a minute. You already have him? What if I had finished my work on time? You...? You stole my dog? You monster." "Oh, I didn't steal him. His sitter practically handed him over to me with a smile on her dolled up fucking face. Besides, you're being hypocritical. I thought animal theft was kind of your new thing." "I didn't... We still don't know how we came into possession of that Great Dane and that Golden Retriever, she snuck into my yard. It was a week ago anyway, you should seriously drop it." "...and how did that reward money taste?" "Fucking delicious, thank you for asking. I have no regrets."

Iker giggled as he heard the smile in Cris’ voice and checked his watch, groaning as he found it to already be a quarter past seven. He was about to say something sharp and witty, at least it was in his mind, when his stomach started to grumble, drawing the attention of Abelhinha who was now staring at Iker curiously, ears perked in recognition, obviously concerned about the beast within Iker's stomach that had made itself known. "Well, I guess I won't be cooking anything for dinner if it's just going to be Abelhinha and me," he mumbled out as he threw a glance over his shoulder and stared at the kitchen's pantry, "and I already ate all of your snack foods." His stomach growled again but Abelhinha growled even louder, daring the beast within the stomach of the one who rubbed his belly to reveal itself. "I'm just going to grab some takeout. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

"You raided my pantry? Whatever, you're a saint regardless." He smiled as he pulled up his Excel document and ran through a few of the numbers, groaning as one of them seemed more than a bit off and another that... “I have to go now, some dumb shit messed up on something and it just added one more thing onto my list. I have to make a few calls before it gets too late but… Where are you going? Nevermind. It doesn’t matter, you know what I like. Just call me when you get here and I'll let you in." His call with Iker had just disconnected and he was dialing in the number to his first client when his door swung open with a "thank fucking god and all that you find holy, you are still here". Cris looked away from his phone for a moment to roll his eyes in acknowledgement, motioning for the other to come in as a receptionist put him on hold. "What do you need, Gabi?"

"I need a transfer out of the pits, man. I don't even think I'm qualified to be in there but there's this new kid down there, Neymar or some shit like that..." "What kind of name is Neymar?" "It's the name of some irritating fuckwit and that's enough to make me hate it, man. LoneStar Air was a bull today, my client's investments were skyrocketing, and he kept hanging around my little box of hell asking me about some shit stock while I was selling and I swear, I swear I almost took a page out of Suarez's book and took a piece out of him."

Cristiano laughed as he recalled Suarez's incident from the month before and shook his head as he easily envisioned Gabi doing the same or similar though stapling a person’s head seemed more within Gabi’s nature. He went to say something but he quickly swallowed his words and deleted his thoughts as the receptionist’s voice found him again. "That's perfectly fine. If you could just inform Mr. Villas-Boas that I had called, that'd be fantastic. Okay. Alright. Thank you, Doris." One down, five to go. "Who have you talked to about...?"

"Who haven't I talked to about it?" Gabi was growing increasingly frustrated simply recalling the incident and Cristiano's amusement of the whole matter wasn't helping; it had been nine months since Neymar had started working in the cubicle next to him, nine months too long. He was well aware that he was at the edge of something and he felt the ground falling out from beneath him, his control slipping. "It's just, he's just too much and I don't want to go to jail but if that's what it takes to get away from him… I’ll stab that kid with a pen and call it an accident." He reached forward as he finished vocalizing his thoughts and started messing with a few of the things on Cris’ desk, pulling one of the files off of the stack in the process. “Lumina? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them.”

“They’re new and my client swears they’re the future of medical technology and I have to say, I’m convinced.” He could see Gabi nodding his head and watched as the other picked up the phone and made the call for him, eventually ensuring the client that the stock had seen some gains and crossed the name off of Cristiano’s list. Two down, four to go. “You should put in a request to work up here; I’m sure you’ve established yourself with more than enough clients and would be ideal for a transfer. Between you and I, I think Asier may be looking towards the exit and someone is going to need to fill that position. Why not you?”

“Will you write me a recommendation?” The question was more for validation as he knew that Cristiano would both draw up the request and give it his blessing so he smiled when the other nodded, picked up the phone and called another client off of Cris’ list while the other jammed the keys on his keyboard while muttering various curses. Three down, three to go. “Whatever happened with Fernando? That guy from Ava Tech?”

“Torres?” He chuckled as Gabi widened his eyes and nodded. “He’s, uh, he’s been dating my best friend for the past, I don’t know, eleven months or so but we don’t see much of him on the business front anymore. Not since Donnely’s investment sent them to the top of the ladder.” “I did not know that. Is he nicer outside of the office than he is in it?” “I’d say he’s about the same. I mean, I don’t really care for him either way but Sergio likes him so…” “...and you? You’re still dating Iker?” He nodded and scanned back through the numbers one last time, smiling as they finally added up. “Yep. It’ll be eighteen months or something next week.” “Shit. That sounds like a fucking lifetime. Are things still weird between the two of you or…?” “He says that they aren’t but it feels... off. We just don’t do anything in that way, you know? Nothing sexual and it’s...” “Weird. I mean, I get it, your whole sexuality thing, I do, but I mean… Have you guys tried other things outside of direct intercourse or is it just…? I don’t know. I’m sorry, I know that’s not really my business anymore.” “It’s fine but I think that since everything happened it’s just been this sort of taboo that neither of us talk about and I…” He trailed as the sound of his phone’s ringing reached his ears and he smiled down at the name on the caller ID. “Speak of the Devil and he shall come bearing food.” “Is that Iker? I swear he better have brought me something.”

* * *

“I fucking knew it,” Iker exclaimed as soon as he stepped off of the elevator and saw the two men encased in the box of glass, both turning to smile at him as his voice resounded throughout the otherwise empty office floor. He returned the smile as he pushed his way through the door and playfully kicked at Gabi as the other man laughed and pinched at his thigh. “I was ordering and had ordered for myself and Cris and I had a moment because the woman had asked me ‘is that all’ and I had a feeling, this gut feeling that “no, no that will not be all” and that’s why…” Iker smiled proudly as he produced a beastly burger from the bag and presented it to the other, handing over a specially wrapped one to Cristiano while pulling out the wrap he had ordered for himself. “You’re welcome, you whores.”

“You make me feel so loved, Iker. This one looks at me as if I’m the bane of his existence.” “You are the bane of my existence, Gabi.” “Shut the fuck up, Cris. We all know that you love me. Besides, I just called two of your clients for you.” The three men stuffed their faces with little talking after the foods had been pulled from their wrappers, satisfactory moans and groans over savory flavors becoming the only sounds produced within the office over the next fifteen minutes until Iker’s “whatever happened with Fernando and Sergio?”

Cristiano shrugged as he swallowed down the last bite of his food and licked avocado remains off his fingers. “Apparently Fer proposed and Sergio choked.” He could see Gabi nodding empathetically out of the corner of his eye and Iker’s brows furrow as he wrapped his mind around the newfound information. “He didn’t say ‘no’ but he didn’t say ‘yes’ either. I think he’s just scared, you know? It’s all new for him and I think he needs to adjust to the idea that he’s capable of experiencing this great thing with this guy. At least that’s what I told him.”

Gabi nodded in agreement and approval, thinking the thing but fully aware that he shouldn’t voice the thing. (“It’s been eighteen months. Are you two ever going to…?”) He had known Cris long enough, had known Iker long enough to know that they didn’t need ink and promises to bind them together but still, the thought remained. “So you’re supportive of Sergio and Fernando being, you know, together and all of that despite…”

“Well, yeah. I mean, he’s good for Sergio and that’s what matters,” he answered simply as he balled up the wrapper of his sandwich and tossed it into his wastebasket, eyeing the remaining names on his call list. “It seems like it’s all bull to me,” he chuckled out, smiling as Gabi called him a “corny fuck” just before dismissing himself to grab a few files from one of the other departments.

Iker watched as he went and raised his eyebrows as Gabi regarded him with a smile that told him that things were about to become intense. “Why do you do that? Why are you so obsessed with building suspense? Just fucking tell me what you feel like you need to tell me for fucks sake,” he chuckled out though his nerves were apparent and glaringly obvious. He knew that Gabi and Cris were close, knew that the two had dated in the past but that Gabi couldn’t cope with Cristiano’s romantic and sexual orientation as the former needed to be desired though he claimed that he’d always love Cris. And Iker knew Cristiano, knew that he would never fault anyone for having needs and the two had remained close friends throughout the years and, much like Sergio, Iker had embraced Gabi as an extension of Cristiano. “What did he tell you?”

“He didn’t complain or anything. I don’t think he’d ever complain about you outside of ‘why the fuck does Iker tolerate me...?’ It’s just that, maybe you guys should discuss your sex life or lack of and, I don’t know, sensual alternatives or something.” He felt a bit awkward, a bit in between the affairs of the other two so he fidgeted a bit before he abruptly picked up the phone and scratched another name off of Cristiano’s list of contacts as the other stewed with his thoughts. “...thank you, Louise. We’ll be looking forward to his call and all future business we may share. Okay. Okay, Louise. You have a wonderful evening, as well.” He basically threw the phone on the receiver as the line went dead and ran his fingers through his hair. “I can’t help but think as if he’s being made to feel, I don’t know, how he was made to feel when we were together. I mean, he felt pressured with me, burdened and I don’t want to see this thing between you two going south because he’s projecting his insecurities onto you or something. I’m rooting for you guys, Iker.”

Iker nodded in agreement and leaned back into the chair, stretching in an attempt to relax himself. “I’ve been thinking about that since… I just don’t expect him to be anything other than himself with me, comfortable with me, but he just, it’s not enough for him. I just don’t know how to convey that to him. We went to Barcelona a few weeks ago and we had a blast. We visited his parents, terrorized his mother with queer affections,” Iker chuckled as he remembered the horrified look on Cris’ mothers face as they had made out in public, “and nearly gave his grandmother a heart attack because he just had to see her heart rate jump on the monitor when he told her that I was his boyfriend. Just being with him is enough, I just don’t know what else I can do to show him that.”  He found Cris making his way back through the office and shook his head though he smiled as he refound Gabi mouthing the words ‘get sensual’.

“Success!” Cristiano was holding a file triumphantly as he reentered the office, free hand waving around a form of sorts that he had picked up as he had passed by the building's Administrative Services. “I went ahead and picked up that transfer request for you, as well, Gabi. Just fill it out and I’ll fill in your references for you and hook you up with a few of my clients as I’m a bit overextended.” “Where do I take this to after I’m finished?” “Oh, just hand it to me and I’ll take it up to Perez after I fill in your references and clientele.” He smiled as the other nodded and turned back to Iker, holding up the file. “Apparently the spreads are only five points off of last months so I can have those finished in five and then I just need to call the last three...” “Two. I already called John and spoke with Lousie.” “...two clients and I should be good to go.”

* * *

It had taken Cristiano all of ten minutes to handle the final two clients and only because one of the stocks of one of the two happened to have been a bear and Cristiano had to explain the loss while trying to balance it out with the profit of the client’s other five stocks, convincing him to sit on the stock for another two days in the event of a bull run and the plausibility of a more profitable sale. He preferred speaking with voicemails and secretaries but he was the best at his job nonetheless and had managed to end the call with his client’s confidence albeit at the price of his sanity. “Why do I do this, Iker?”

Iker smiled and shrugged as he let his head fall back, eyes wide in wonder as the light of the stars filled his eyes. “I think you might be addicted to pressure, to expectations, to the chase. You’re a lunatic,” he laughed as Cristiano reached out to pinch him. He caught the other’s hand and pulled him close, held him as they leaned against the car. Just held him. “I love you. You do know that, right? It might not be that batshit crazy kind of love but I’d definitely stab someone if they made you upset, even if that someone is me. I’d fuck up their tires at the very least.”

Cris smiled into the chest of the older man, sighing softly as he felt small circles being rubbed into his back, lips brushing through his hair before a finger turned his chin up to help those lips find his own. It was, it was something. It was I support you. It was laugh with me. It was cry with me. It was dance with me. It was stay with me. It was grow with me. It wasn’t a consuming fire; it was a slow smolder. It wasn’t passion; it was understanding, appreciation. It wasn’t metaphors, semblance; it was I see you and I don’t need excess, flowery detail to want to continue seeing you.  It was connect with me, connect with you. It was talk to me for an hour on the front porch, maybe we’ll slash our bosses tires together. It was leave the candles at the store, let the flowers die their natural deaths… It was I don’t want them, I don’t need them, just you, you, you in raw, unfiltered detail.

Lips break apart as they silently vow to never, as words escape lips and as confessions find light. He doesn’t bother telling him that Gabi had told him of his concerns, figures that he’d rather silence Cris’ doubts in action than waste words voicing something that they both knew, attempt a solution rather than restate the issue, chuckling at the irony as he’d found his King of Hearts within the Ace of Spades. 


	5. Donuts

It had started with ignoring calls and muting text messages; he had told himself that he’d get back to everyone trying to get in touch with him – and he had meant it sincerely at the time he had said it – but getting in touch with himself was taking just a bit longer than he had expected it to. It had worked for a week, until he had showed up to work to find Fernando waiting for him in the lobby, face painted with worry and concern. He had managed to sneak by him without incident but Cristiano had been waiting for him when he had slipped into the men’s room with a disapproving look on his face that seemed to be outweighed by his amusement of the situation. (It hadn’t stopped the other from allowing himself to be used as a stool so he could escape out the window, though he did have to deal with the other’s off-tune humming of the Mission Impossible theme song).

It had progressed into calls out of work that had progressed into him taking a full week out of his vacation time. He continued ignoring the relentless slew of concerned calls but he extended his list of muted texts to include the names and various numbers of his closest friends; a mistake he had quickly realized as both Iker and Cristiano took his lack of response as an invitation to show up on his doorstep. He had changed the code to his gate, sure, but he had been reminded all too quickly that Cristiano had never known it to begin with as the other still managed to find his doorbell with his finger, his door with his knuckles.

Sergio groaned as the persistent sound of the day’s knocking reached him but he lay motionless on the floor beneath his guest bed, silently hoping and praying that Cristiano would just leave before his neighbor to the right took notice of him this time. (The week before, his neighbor to the left had invited Cristiano in for tea and cookies and Cristiano had readily accepted, gaining a spy who informed him whenever he left his house and whenever he came home. He brought in her newspaper and played with her dogs, she fed him cookies and intel. She was probably the reason why Cristiano was there within that very moment). As the knocking ceased, he sighed and tried to catch his thoughts, suddenly too aware that he was beneath his guest bed, hiding from his best friend. ((Pathetic)). He didn’t know how it had come to this; it was ridiculous but he wasn’t quite ready for... ((“Wow. I’m surprised at how soothing this is.”)) It was ridiculous and obviously futile.

He had jumped as soon as Cristiano’s breath had found the shell of his ear and he cursed both himself and the other as his head had collided with the support beams of the guest mattress. He could hear Cristiano chuckling and he couldn’t do much to resist the urge to join him because the entire situation was just so fucking stupid. “How the fuck did you get in here?” “Someone, someone I surely do not know, broke your bathroom window at some point. I mean, the lock is all fucked up. You really should talk to your insurance adjuster about that. The damn kids in this neighborhood have gone too far and, at some point, you're going to need to put your foot down.” “Yes, yes the children have gone too far… Look, I really don’t want to talk, Cris.” “Then shut the fuck up, Sergio. I’m just here to relax.”

He couldn’t prevent the smile from hijacking his features as he found Cristiano lying beside him beneath the bed, eyes closed and completely at ease with the fact that he was beneath a bed, true to his word. He hated that he loved the nuisance. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know what I want and I know that Fernando’s part of that… but I don’t know why I can’t just tell him that. Why can’t I just tell him that?” “It’s probably tied to the reason why you hide beneath beds when your friend shows up at your house – worried – and tied to the reason why you talk whenever you say that you don’t want to. People usually do the opposite of what they want to do, usually because they think it’s what they need to do. People are stupid sometimes.” “Did you just call me stupid?” “Was that not obvious enough for you? I was trying to put it delicately given your oh-so fragile state.” It had been enough to press another smile into his features and enough to get him out from beneath the bed but Cristiano was lingering for reasons unknown; he tugged Cristiano out by his ankles. ((“Thank fucking me. The next time you want to hide beneath a bed, hide beneath your bed. You have actual fucking carpet in your room. This wood shit really fucking hurts.”))

He was in the shower within a matter of minutes ((“…as your friend, I cannot allow you to live in this reprehensible cloud of odor”)) and he had to admit that it felt nice. He could hear Cristiano touching and fiddling with almost everything on his bathroom counter, rambling on about how out of control his weeds were before backtracking to such an extent that he referred to the city’s Code Enforcement as ‘eco-terrorists’ and even that was nice. He could smell the fragrances of at least four of his body spray’s mixing with the scents of at least two of his colognes; he had more than that – many, many more than that – and he knew that the smell would reach something overwhelming so he braced himself in every way he could. True to his nature, Cris checked every scent he could get his hands on and Sergio's preparations proved to be ineffective gestures; he found himself overwrought with relief when Cristiano finally made a selection from the various options and he had practically begged the other to place them with his clothes before the elder man could change his mind - again.

“So, I was thinking about trying that new little place on Madrigal for lunch” and he smiled in relief as Cristiano voiced his agreement while washing away the last remaining suds of his body wash. The other was usually more difficult to deal with when it came to matters of the stomach. “Does Iker even know that you’re here” and he doesn’t know why he’d even bothered to ask. ((“Of course. I told him that if you didn’t come to the door today that I would be breaking in. You know, I really should call him though. I have him on standby with some bail money just in case one of your neighbors saw and didn’t understand the defining conditions of our friendship.” “I didn’t realize that there were conditions of our friendship…” “Pfft, you know that there aren’t but, in a twisted kind way, the lack of conditions is a condition. I don’t expect them to understand that. Hell, even you struggle to understand that sometimes.” “I don’t know. I’m starting to think that answering all of your calls and texts are a condition of our relationship.” “Not really. I mean, you know when you’re ignoring me, you’re ignoring me at your own risk. Sure, I’m a little self-centered and I’ll take drastic measures to get the attention I want from you but you don’t /have/ to do anything.” He shut off the water and wondered how he’d been so blessed and yet so cursed with such a friend.

* * *

((“…but is it supposed to be this chewy?”)) and Cristiano didn’t know how much more he could take before he’d burst and just tell the man. A better friend would’ve informed Sergio that he had to peel the thing before he ate the thing prior to him eating the thing, but he dwelled in the luxury of being the other’s best friend – and last he checked, best trumped better – so he told him nothing. “I think Iker’s mad at me,” and he could see Sergio stop chewing on the thing he shouldn’t have been chewing on in the first place. “I don’t know, I just… I called him before I left and he sounded pretty rushed, like he didn’t care that I was fine and not in jail.” He hated that Sergio had started laughing and he secretly hoped that he choked on the thing that shouldn’t be anywhere near the other’s mouth, much less in it; he’d never tell him now. ((“Where /is/ Iker?”)) and he sighed as the question found him, started to play with his own food as the server refilled his glass. “Some guy’s wife is having a mini-human and he volunteered to pick up his shift at the construction site – with my blessing, of course – so the guy could watch a head come out of a vagina. Not something I’d be willing to miss a paycheck for but to each their own.” ((“I’m sure he’s just busy at the site.”)) He would have informed Sergio that Iker had locked his cell phone, too, that it seemed like Iker was shutting him out entirely...

...but there had been a strange man staring at him, smiling at him as if they had known one another for longer than the five seconds he’d been looking at him. He seemed familiar but Cristiano couldn't pin the face. "Do you know this guy," and he watched as Sergio threw a glance over his shoulder and continued his own conspicuous staring. In less than two seconds he'd been certain that if he /had/ ever met this man, he’d definitely remember it. “Can I help you with something?” 

It seemed that was all the man had been waiting for as he found his feet almost as soon as the question had been started, approached with an ever growing smile as he had come to recognize, not one but both of the men seated at the small table. “I'm sure you could," he laughed nervously before wincing and shaking his head in disbelief of himself. ((Awful. That was awful)). "I just, I wanted to thank the two of you for not vomiting all over my car and for returning that damn dog. Oh, and to remind you that you still owe me fifty bucks.” He watched as the two men exchanged confused glances and silently reprimanded himself. “I’m sorry, you two were probably too drunk to even remember me… Officer James Rodriguez? A few weeks ago, you two got lost in your neighborhood,” he pressed while pointing to the inked man (who happened to be chewing on what seemed to be a muffin wrapper). “Sergio, right? …and when I showed up, I was feeling generous so I offered to take the two of you home rather than to the holding cells but you two… Oh, the two of you put me through hell, managed to convince me to buy fifteen dozen donuts. While I recognize and accept that I should have just said no – because that’s, that’s just fucking ludicrous but..."

James hated that he couldn't focus around this guy and he hated that his inked friend was as intimidating as he had remembered him, even with the absence of alcohol. "Look, the fact of the matter is that I didn’t and that as soon as I had paid for them all, you two decided to give all of them out to drunk people going home from the bars because you," he chuckled, pointing to the one who made him feel all fuzzy, "you felt as if it would be the perfect way for me to give back to my community." He shook his head as the two men continued to look at him in a manner most complex. "Seriously? You don’t remember doing any of that? Not one thing?” He looked at the other two men, finding one of them - ((Sergio, his name is definitely Sergio)) - to be completely confused and the other - ((something with a 'C')) - seemingly satisfied with his recollection of his encounter with them that evening. He liked his smile, it's what had stuck with him from that night and it was the reason he had recognized him well over a month later. That smile and those eyes. “You guys came on three calls with me before I dropped the two of you off.”

Nothing. The two men were offering James little more than amused and confused stares beneath eyebrows both raised and lowered. “You," James continued, pointing to that smile, to those eyes with a warm smile pressed into own his cheeks, "were convinced that I was a stripper and you tried removing my clothes when Culture Beat came on the radio…” ((“I didn’t know radio stations still played Culture Beat.” “What’s Culture Beat?” “I think you mean ‘who’, Sergio. Who is Culture Beat and they’re probably the greatest thing to come out of the 90’s… Behind Aqua, of course.” “Who’s Aqua…?”)) "...and you guys wouldn't stop interrupting one another, jumping from one thing to the next." He shook his head as the two men kept talking around him, conversing about Aqua and La Bouche, atrocious music and art in general. He was about to walk away as he figured the two men had seemed to have forgotten his existence entirely, had turned to do so when he had found his arm caught within the grasp of an inked hand.

"Would you like to join us, Officer Rodriguez?"

On second thought, James really could see himself warming up to this tattooed guy. 


End file.
